


into space, i thought of just your face, end it all

by thatsjustHoneyDewbabe



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Champion Shiro (Voltron), Cunnilingus, Falling In Love, First Time, Galra Keith (Voltron), Kinda, M/M, Penis In Vagina Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Soulmates, Vaginal Fingering, Xenophilia, afab language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-02-26 21:26:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18725302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsjustHoneyDewbabe/pseuds/thatsjustHoneyDewbabe
Summary: They send him a half-breed whore as a treat.“They say I taste sweet,” Keith's voice grows lower, enchanting Shiro. “And they say that I’m beautiful. They’re right. I am.” The boy motions his finger at Shiro to come here, and the spell has already been cast. He's bewitched. Shiro finds himself already crawling over the boy, creating a divot on the bed.At least if aliens ever invade Earth, Shiro will be able to fight and fuck them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU cryptidkickflip FOR BETA-ING!!

Today is going to be like any other day.

 

Shiro used to hate his old clean-cut routine. Get up. Practice for the new mission he was assigned to. TA for several classes. Attend physical therapy. Burn dinner, and hit the hay before eleven.

 

But now he wishes he could go back. Desperately. He took it for granted. His new schedule, he wakes up to train in his cell, he goes to kill something in the afternoon and at night, night terrors cumulated from being a champion for more than a year make him yell in his sleep.

 

Champion (noun): warrior; fighter. A person who has defeated or surpassed all rivals in a competition."

 

He was the Garrison’s champion and liked it. People sought him out for help, eyes crinkled from comfortable smiles.

 

Now, he’s the Galra’s champion. Every time Shiro closes his eyes, he sees the scared faces of the other prisoners he’s murdered. If he could find a rope thick enough, he’d hang himself immediately. In his despondent mind, there is no other way to repent. Or maybe there is, and his thoughts of suicide are meddling with that.

 

The other day, a higher-up came to his moldy cell and cuffed him.

 

“You’ve beaten the record,” the Galra with the most detestable grin Shiro has seen yet says. “There are special privileges for the undefeatable champion.”

 

The privileges are a bigger cell with two rooms, a decent sized bed in one and a small bathroom in the other, regular meals, and added trust that at this point, he won’t go anywhere. They’ve smothered his fire.

 

Another privilege is whores. At any time, whenever he wants one. With the tone that the Galra uses while telling him, Shiro makes out that at least in this sect of Galran society, buying them isn’t shamed. He says it like ordering food. Killing crosses a line, but _forced_ killing can forgive him. Adding fucking to the picture? Vile, and crossing a line of no return. Taking advantage of the power balance and sleeping with aliens who are in a similar situation would make him no better than the Galra.

 

Touch.

 

 _Sweet_ touch.

 

Despite how morally wrong it is, you can’t hand someone forbidden fruit when they’ve gone through a famine for almost a year. Shiro isn’t heavenly. Maybe he was, once. Now he better resembles Eve. He needs someone to touch him who isn’t trying to slice him open. He needs to touch someone who won’t charge at him with fists. He wants to sink his teeth into the forbidden fruit.

 

One of his newly assigned guards reminds him the day after he moves, right after a fight that if the prisoner he fought hadn’t tripped, he might have had his torso split in two. His blood would be drying in the sand pit.

 

He hasn’t witnessed a scene like that, though he’s used to seeing it.

 

Shiro takes a bite out of the apple, and gives him an answer with little remorse. This battle was too close. He’s still a little erratic, tearing on the edge of its departure. When the guard leaves, Shiro dimly wonders what others would say. The Holts. Iverson. _Adam._ What would his ex-fiance say? Unthinkable. He has to keep questions like that that at bay. He isn’t the Garrison’s Takashi Shirogane. Right now, he’s the Galra’s Champion. There’s no time left to do anything but cling on to survival.

 

Going back to being the Garrison’s Takashi Shirogane doesn’t seem like an option anymore. With his degenerative muscle disease, the doctor required him to sleep on a soft bed. Otherwise he’d suffer from awful aches that’d follow him for days. They gave him a soft bed. Last night, he slept on the cold floor instead of under the sheets of it.

 

What’s normal, now? He kills whatever’s in front of him, sleeps on the floor and now he’s going to get his dick wet with someone who he’ll treat like an object. Who is he now? Where’s his humanity? What can he do to retain some semblance of who Takashi Shirogane used to be?

 

A coping mechanism he developed early on, right after the third win and the Holts vanishing, is counting. He does it everywhere, whenever he can, to control himself. But in seconds. Seconds remind him of Earth. Fuck ticks, fuck the Galra, fuck space. He’s at nearly one thousand seconds when the door of the cell opens, jingles come closer, and the door slams shut and locks. Shiro sighs in regret. This is so stupid. The adrenaline from his fight went away already. Someone who can’t consent is behind him. He doesn’t actually want this.

 

His cell is silent like it’s still only Shiro in here. He hears a _crunch_ coming from his left, and takes a deep breath before turning in that direction.

 

The sound came from a boy who’s younger than him, but thankfully still an adult. Casually sitting on Shiro’s new bed with no fear in his eyes. Whether Shiro’s intent is lust or curiosity (perhaps both), he eyes him up and down. Scarcely dressed in a thin bra that his lilac nipples show through, a chain trails from the front base of the bra to an even thinner thong that leaves little room for imagination. Shiro thinks he could wrap his hands around the boy’s waist and have his fingers meet.

 

The boy looks at him with a bored expression. Shiro hasn’t seen a Galra as light at this one. His skin is almost human, a pastel softer than lavender. The scarce and delicate gold chains that dress him illuminate. There is no trace of yellow in his sclera. The color of his hair reminds Shiro of Earth’s night sky, Earth’s stars shine in his eyes. Besides the furry, fluffy ears and the violet hues in his eyes, he has no Galra features that stick out.

 

Shiro concludes to himself that he must be a hybrid of some sort. Part of Shiro hopes it might be human. All of him knows there’s no chance in hell that that’s the case. His reaction must not please the boy, who sits crisscrossed and is carrying himself lazily. By now, his attention has gone away from Shiro and up at the ceiling.

 

Shiro doesn’t realize the crunching noise came from the leftovers of his dinner, half of it now in the boy’s small hands. Chewing brings his fangs out.

 

“That’s mine,” Shiro says, no heat to his voice.

 

The boy’s eyes trail back down to Shiro. He makes no effort to put the food back.

 

“They didn’t feed me today,” he says, bringing the food that resembles a protein bar up to his mouth for another crunchy bite. Shiro sees parts of his ribs poking out and he makes up his mind not to protest. He lets the boy continue after he swallows another big bite.

 

“I need the stamina,” he adds. “You’re the champion.” The insinuation, the matter-of-factness from his tone, makes Shiro's face feel warm.

 

He doesn’t know what to say, really. The boy expects him to fuck him senseless, but Shiro deflated earlier and isn’t as hungry as he thought he was.

 

“And the champion is tired,” Shiro says. The boy raises a brow, asking for an explanation. “I almost got cut in two today.”

 

“I know,” the boy says, muffled while chewing. “I saw it.”

 

“Did you, now,” Shiro says dryly.

 

The boy nods, unfazed. “I’m the only one who can. I watch closely, so I can tell everyone else what happened.

 

He must mean the other whores, Shiro figures. “Why can’t the others join you?

 

“Special privileges, like you. In a way. I’m half. Most upper-class whores are pure. Most in power are pure. But the King’s son is half, like me.”

 

“Gotcha.”

 

The boy’s eyebrows furrow at Shiro’s response. “I’m not his. We’re friends. He says we’re kindred spirits, both trying to make it in a world that thinks we’re second-class.”

 

Shiro didn’t know that about hybrids. He gets bolder. “You must be pretty good then, if you’re here."

 

  
“I’m no one special,” the boy mutters, finishing up Shiro’s dinner. “My performance isn’t better than others,” he explains. “I look different. They call me exotic and brag after bedding me. If I was pure, or another half, no one would bat an eye.”

  
  
“What else are you?”

 

The boy shrugs. “Haven’t a clue. I’m finished now, by the way.” He pats the bed. “Join me?”

 

Shiro wants to nap, if anything. “How long are you here for?”

 

“By your match tomorrow,” the boy says, twirling some of his locks around his fingers. “You haven’t shared a bed with anyone in almost a deca-pheob. They regret it.”

 

“They pity me,” Shiro says bitterly.

 

“Who cares about the reason?” the boy counters. The chains click against each other. “You’re being spoiled. My kind rarely spoil in ways such as this. You should be grateful."

 

 _Grateful._ That strikes a nerve.

 

“Grateful for throwing me in here, making me fight, and sending a whore to me as a treat?”

 

The boy doesn’t say anything. He looks down like he doesn’t know what to say. Silence fills the room, until the boy looks back up again.

 

“I don’t understand, ‘as a treat’.” He looks cautious as he speaks. “You aren’t eating. Treats are for special occasions. They are decorated.” The boy straightens his legs, and spreads out, stretching in a way that reminds Shiro of a cat. The ears certainly don’t help. “You said that I’m a treat. I agree. I’m a special occasion.” He motions to the clothes he dons. “And I’m decorated.”

 

Something unfamiliar in his stomach burns.

 

“They say I taste sweet,” his voice grows lower, enchanting Shiro. “And they say that I’m beautiful. They’re right. I am.” The boy motions his finger at Shiro to come here, and the spell has already been cast. He's bewitched. Shiro finds himself already crawling over the boy, creating a divot on the bed. He throws a leg in between the boy’s thighs and grinds up, making them both shiver.

 

“You’re beautiful, too.” Shiro would think that he’s lying if his eyes weren’t so telling. The boy wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck, gently pulling him down and close. “When two beautiful people are in the room, living beings believe they should be doing something.”

 

Shiro almost can’t recognize the deep, blatant want in his own voice as he speaks. “What’s your name?”

 

“I’m Keith,” Keith’s voice comes out almost as a whisper. “You’re Takashi Shirogane.”

 

He hasn’t heard his name, his real name, being said out loud in what feels like an eternity or two. The emotions that bubble up are strong and make him feel light. Shiro puts one of his hands behind Keith’s head, gently pushing him up until Shiro can put his lips on him. It’s hunger; he really is starving. As Shiro starts groping up and down Keith’s sides while licking into the boy’s mouth, he thinks that Keith _does_ taste as sweet as he claims.

 

Keith goes lax underneath him, hardly kissing back. He wants to eat but stops and looks back at Keith, studying his face. He backs off, and Keith smacks his own mouth with his hand. His face is the same color of a ripe red apple.

 

Bewitched, all Shiro does is stare in awe. Keith really is the most beautiful Galra he’s ever seen, possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

 

“Is something wrong?” he asks. Keith drops his hand and sighs.

 

“You’re really not from around here, huh?” he says shakily. Shiro raises a brow, telling him to elaborate. Keith shakes his head. “It’s nothing, Takashi Shirogane.”

 

“Shiro,” Shiro corrects, grinding on Keith and receiving a small moan in response. He’s so hard that it hurts.

 

“Shiro,” Keith says, breathless. He spreads out more, opening his legs. “I’m yours until tomorrow. How do you want me?”

 

He wants to bury his cock as far as he can go, Shiro thinks frankly. But from the looks of it, there doesn’t seem to be anything that could be used for lube. The most they have is spit. Shiro looks closely at Keith’s body and trails down his happy trail to the band of the chain bikini.

 

This is all for him, but Keith should feel good too. A mutual handjob will do the trick for now. His hand breaks the seal and he slides it down to cup his cock.

 

There isn’t one, though. And he takes what he said earlier back. Keith doesn’t look very alien-like, until you take all of his clothes off.

 

Shiro tries to be subtle, but nothing can stop him from staring and trying to take everything in. He’s taken aback at first and hopes that it doesn’t show on his face.

 

Past Keith’s bikini line, his pastel skin ombres to the same lilac color as his nipples. There’s a small nub that Shiro’s fingers brush against-- he assumes it works as a citoris and he doubts he’ll be able to stroke it. Shiro lowers his hand, feeling tiny and hard bumps that trail from his outer labia to inner, and stopping at-- he presses into a hole that’s almost right underneath the nub he found.

 

What he sees more or less resembles a vagina.

 

Ah, fuck.

 

He has no idea what the fuck he’s doing.

 

Prodding around probably isn’t that comfortable for the alien boy underneath him. Shiro thinks he does a good thing when he presses another finger in, and Keith’s breathing quickens. He feels the bumps outside become ridges

 

Huh. He pulls his fingers out, curious. Any slick on his fingers is lavender.

 

He slides Keith’s bikini down his legs and tosses it to the side to get a better look.

 

What he sees more of reminds Shiro of the ocean against the sunset. The lilac on his outer labia shifts to a darker, warmer purple. The now ridges are periwinkle. His privates are like what an enthusiastic art student would paint. He dimly thinks he remembers seeing something like this in a music video that was popular before he left.

 

And it’s also one of the strangest things Shiro has ever seen in his entire life. After a year of fighting, he’s seen some strange shit. But despite how out of depth Shiro is, he isn’t deterred. Keith’s whole body is _beautiful._

 

Keith notices Shiro’s hesitancy. “... Is something wrong?” he asks, blinking and sitting up on his elbows.

 

“... No!” Shiro says, mostly to himself. “Well, kinda. The thing is, I’ve never touched anyone like yourself.”

 

Keith looks up inquisitively. “... Ever?”

 

“No… Only videos.” And it was from when he was a preteen in denial about being gay. He leaves out that he’s never ever seen ridges before, or that human genitals are never these colors.

 

“You can request someone else,” Keith says. The rejection shows on his face. “It… doesn’t have to be me.” He looks like a kicked puppy.

 

Shiro shakes his head. “That’s not it. I want you,” he says, smiling in reassurance. “But I don’t know where to touch you first. I don’t want to hurt you.” He bends down to press a soft kiss underneath Keith’s ear. “Can you show me?”

 

“There’s no yl,” Keith says. “You will have to get your cock wet. Water will not work. Spit will.”

 

“But you’re not ready.”

 

“I’m always ready, Shiro.” Keith’s answer sounds like an automatic voicemail.

 

“It’ll hurt though,” Shiro protests. All he does now is hurt people. He puts the same two fingers he pulled out into his mouth to get them nice and wet.

 

Keith frowns. He looks out of his comfort zone. “You don’t have to do that.”

 

“I _want_ to,” Shiro presses. “You feeling just as good as I am will make me feel even better.” He puts the fingers at the entrance again, and slower than last time, pushes them in. They’re just wet enough to do slow thrusts in and out. Keith, who has grown tense, starts to relax. He sighs in content, his body sinks further into the mattress.

 

Shiro studies Keith’s face for clues. Admittedly he still feels like he’s groping at something in the dark. Adam had slept with a few people like Keith before they started dating. He picks his brain apart to remember if Adam had ever mentioned any details. In the meantime, as he thinks, he adds a third finger, and from the sound that comes out of Keith, it‘s a step in the right direction. He doesn’t seem to need any more spit. To be safe, Shiro pulls his fingers out and looks down to make sure the wetness on his fingers isn’t from blood. Lavender coats his fingers. Is-- Are those sparkles in it?

 

Keith whines at the loss. Shiro diverts his eyes down to the boy. The pink flush of his face that trails down to his chest against his lavender skin makes him look ethereal.

 

“Treats should be eaten, not stared at,“ Keith whines. Shiro kisses his cheek and slowly moves his fingers to Keith’s hole, teasing it by only slightly dipping his fingers in.

 

Keith’s whining for _him_ makes him feel a sort of proud feeling he hasn’t felt in a year. His confidence grows. He missed making someone happy, making someone feel _good._ “I can do both, can’t I?” he teases.

 

Keith rocks against Shiro’s fingers, opening himself upon them and taking them to Shiro’s knuckles. “You are strange.” He moans louder unabashedly.

 

“Am I?”

 

“G-god,” Keith stutters. There’s something that Shiro remembers from his cadet days at the Garrison. He experimentally curls his fingers towards Keith’s stomach and Keith turns keen and gasps. Jackpot.

 

“Yeah, _yeah,_ ” Keith moans. “But, my pleasure” Shiro presses again. “—ah!”  I-It gives you nothing” He adds his pinky to his thrusts to stretch him wider and picks up speed. “—mmm.” Keith’s hips buck up, he’s getting as tight as a string and his movements grow jerkier and jerkier. The purple ridges are raised and feel rough against Shiro’s fingers.

 

“It gives me a good show,” Shiro says, grinning. He curls his fingers towards Keith’s stomach again. With even more confidence now, Shiro presses harder and Keith gasps, stunned.

 

He hasn’t made someone feel good like this in _so long_. Keith’s moans and gasps are therapeutic.

 

“I’m-- I’m supposed to say that I want you to fill me up until I can feel you in my throat.” The heavy flush in Keith’s face and tight grip of the sheets on the mattress tell Shiro that he’s close.

 

“But don’t stop, yeah there, there.” The blue ribbed nub above Keith’s hole has been getting swollen. Think. It’s definitely not a penis, but it’s not as small as a clit. Kinda looks like a nub. You stroke cocks up and down. You go in circles with clits. Shiro has never touched anything like this before. But his goal is making Keith feel good. And he hasn’t learned anything new besides killing things. He’s thirsty for Keith, but also for _knowledge._

 

At least if aliens ever invade Earth, he’ll be able to fight _and_ fuck them.

 

Shiro pops his thumb out to rub around the outside of it, then he ghosts the top of it. The ridges around the nub must give it extra sensitivity. Keith moans turn into sobs and he has a full body shiver. His violet eyes dampen.

  
Jackpot, again. “You close?”

 

“I don’t know,” Keith rushes to say. “Never touched it, never been like this I only give-- I try by myself but your fingers are so _long_ and that _spot_ above my hole.” Shiro finally rubs directly on the nub. Keith throws his head back, “Don’t stop, oh please don’t stop please, please.”

 

Shiro stops his hand entirely and Keith shoots up, looking furious. He opens his mouth to say something before Shiro tells him that he has an idea he’d like to try.

 

“You’re getting off of the bed?” Keith asks, his desperation for release making him beg.

 

“Wait a sec,” Shiro tells him. He does get off of the bed but turns towards it again and crouches down onto his knees.

 

Keith furrows his brows, cranky. “Make it fa—“ Shiro puts his hands around Keith’s thighs and pulls him to the edge of the bed. Shiro puts Keith’s legs on his shoulders. “—Oh?” he asks. Keith lifts himself up on his elbows. “What are you doing?”

 

The confusion on his face makes Shiro frown. “Nobody’s ever gone down on you before?” Keith squints his eyes.

 

“Gone down? Like... bowing? Of course not,” Keith gripes. Shiro puts his fingers back into Keith’s hole, starting off slow like before.

 

“Blown you?”

 

“Mmmm,” Keith moans with a pleased smile, shimmying his hips closer. “Why would someone breathe on me?”

 

In a last ditch effort, Shiro asks, “...Cunnilingus?”But he’s not even sure he says it right. Keith smacks one of Shiro’s shoulders with his heel.

 

“I don’t what that means,” he exclaims, exasperated. “What are we doing?” Keith laments, dramatically tossing his head back and loudly sighing.

 

“Patience yields focus,” Shiro says amused. To tease more, he pokes Keith’s damp inner thigh with his free hand.

 

Keith groans. “I don’t get it!”

 

“You’ll see,” Shiro muses. He moves until he’s right in between Keith’s thighs, and bends down until he gets his nose wet. The drawn out teasing was worth it, Keith almost screams when Shiro sucks on his nub.

 

“Qu-quiz—!” He squeezes his thighs, trapping Shiro.

 

He lets go of it with a pop, and looks up at Keith.

 

“Want more of that, baby?”

 

“Yes, yes, please, Shiro,” he begs. “It’s so good, it’s _so_ good. You’re—“ Shiro puts it back in his mouth and sucks it like candy. The position is a little difficult for Shiro. To keep up with fingering he has to remind himself.

 

“So good,” Keith moans. Shiro stops his thrusts and curls his fingers towards Keith’s stomach.

 

Keith starts chanting his name like it’s a prayer as Shiro moves the nub lazily back and forth with his soft tongue.

 

“Faster, with your mouth.” He firms it up to make circles. Wait, he thinks he remembers Adam telling him something about this.

 

Instead of circles he starts tracing letters over it. Keith’s thighs squeeze tighter by E. He shouts by M, and comes at X, having a full body shudder and saying Shiro’s name over and over again. The arch that Keith makes reminds him of a cat again. Shiro feels him squeeze his fingers in quick intervals. It’s so hot. Next time he’ll get Keith to come while he’s inside him.

 

Keith’s breathing slows and he becomes lax, sinking into the bed once more with a sated, fucked out look. Half of his hair is out of his braid. Shiro removes his fingers, eyeing the film on them in wonder before rubbing it on the blanket. With his face pink like a summer sunset and pupils blown, Keith's stunning.

 

(Definitely fuels Shiro’s ego to know that he’s still a good lay.)

 

It’s impossible for Shiro to not gaze at him. Shiro almost forgets about his own need for release.

 

Almost.

 

He must look obvious because Keith throws him a pleased but tired smile."

 

“I was wondering how long you would wait.”

 

“Wanted to make sure you felt just as good as I’m going to feel.”

 

“I didn’t know you could do that with your mouth. You really are something. I’ve never felt so good before,” Keith says, eyeing Shiro as much as Shiro eyes him. The compliment puts a sprinkle of red on Shiro's face. “Is all of your species this… reciprocating?”

 

Shiro scoffs, looking back at his old life. “Not at all. Plenty of us don’t care about the other person.” Shiro says. “Lady Luck is on your side.” He grins, wiping his mouth off.

 

Keith goes from sated to puzzled. “Who is that? Someone from your planet?”

 

“Kinda, she was a Roman God named Fortuna. It’s a phrase that means you’re lucky.”

 

“Roman God…” Keith says slowly. “So, you’re a Roman. And celebrate many Gods,” he hesitantly concludes.

 

Shiro doesn’t correct him immediately. He lays on his side beside Keith. The conversation takes some of the blood away from down below. Keith makes a face as Shiro brings his finger up and pokes his face.

 

“My species is homo sapien. But, we call ourselves human beings. Humans.” Shiro trails his hand up to Keith’s ear and strokes it, at awe at the softness. Keith likes that much more. “There are many beliefs, and we all look different. Like Galra.”

 

“Mmm,” Keith says, nodding and pressing into Shiro’s hand. “So, Takashi Shirogane is a human,” he remarks. “You’re beautiful.” Keith brings his hand up to ghost one of Shiro’s eyes. “I’ve never seen eyes like yours.” His tone is bright, like the rising sun. “Do you all have these eyes? All Galra have yellow. Do all... humans? Right, humans. Do all humans have this beautiful brown color?”

 

“Eyes are in all shapes and sizes,” Shiro says. “Colors too. They come in blue, and green, sometimes other colors too.”

 

“Red?”

 

“No red. Well,” Shiro pauses. “Some do. But it’s from a rare condition. ”

 

That excites Keith. His eyes light up. “Yellow? What about yellow? Like us?”

 

“No yellow.”

 

Keith points to his eyes. “And mine? This color?”

 

“I’ve never seen eyes as beautiful as yours,” Shiro says earnestly.

 

Soft pink trails across Keith’s face. He looks down, bashful. “Then I suppose it’s mutual. We’re the same.”

 

“I love the compliments. Do you tell all of your clients that they’re beautiful?”

 

Keith shakes his head. “Most fuck and leave.” His voice comes out as more bitter than he realizes, Shiro thinks. This sort of life can’t offer too many joys. Being used and discarded, like a toy. Shiro feels similar; he’s a toy for people to watch. Eventually, in the arena or outside, they’ll discard him like everyone else.

 

He’s still half-hard, but his legs ache while his back spasms once in a while from stress. Shiro’s hand has been the first hand to touch Keith’s private parts. He still wants touch, needs it, holding the boy tight for now will bring them both greater joy. Shiro opens his arms and motions to his chest.

 

“Come here,” he says. Keith gives him a confused look but obeys, rolling over once to slide into Shiro’s arms. He wraps his arms around Keith and brings the boy into his chest. The softness of Keith’s ears and warmth of his body makes Shiro sigh, content. Looking down, Keith’s studying him with a small pouty frown.

 

“You really are a strange one,” Keith says. “Tell me, this is what you really want? This?”

 

“Mmm,” Shiro sighs into Keith’s hair. “I want to sleep.  And having you in my arms to boot? This is heaven.”

 

“ _Boot?_ No, never mind. Heaven,” Keith repeats. Hesitantly, he follows Shiro’s movement and puts his hands around Shiro’s waist as best as he can manage. Despite the way he’s carrying himself, Shiro thinks that they’re both getting off from this. “Heaven must be a good place then,” Keith confirms. He melts into Shiro’s arms.

 

*****

 

The strangled sound of the prison door shutting stirs Shiro awake with a slight jolt. With bleary eyes, he tries to take in his surroundings. He slept hard. It was some of the best sleep he’s had in a long, long time. Keith is still out like a light in his arms. With a neutral, almost serene-like expression, he looks younger than he is. A mood in between fondness and pity causes him to hold the boy tighter. If it there wasn’t a possibility for Keith waking up, Shiro would lower his hands ever so slightly to feel his exposed ribs. He has some lean muscle. The boy isn’t skeleton thin, but Shiro highly doubts he’s getting enough to eat.

 

Shiro finds his behavior towards Keith to be strange. On Earth, less than two years ago, he highly doubts he’d be this concerned over someone that he hasn’t known for more than a few hours. But here, in this hell ran by the Galra, he can’t hold the boy closer without risk of hurting him. He’s more touch starved than he thought. It’s a little embarrassing. Keith acted in a similar way at the very least, forgetting his place while asking about humans with wholehearted curiosity. Maybe they both needed this. His reaction to Shiro has certainly helped Shiro feel less guilty about ordering a living being to sleep with.

 

They have one thing in common: neither of them want to be here. Kindred spirits in that regard. And Shiro clings to that acknowledgement, that they’re both getting something out of this.

 

What is Keith’s other half? How did he get here? Shiro hasn’t had someone he could call a friend for a long, long time. Even just a friendly acquaintance. In the beginning, he gave it his best shot. Then, every person he had a breakthrough with would be trembling at the opposite end of the arena. But from how Keith describes, he’s treated well and is even friends with the Prince. Surely he can allow himself to become close with this boy? At least until he finds a way out?

 

“You must think a lot,” Keith says sleepily. Speak of the devil. He hurries himself onto Shiro’s chest. “I guess I would too, if I was in here by myself.”

 

“Sleep well?”

 

“No one has held me like this in a long time,” Keith says quietly. He pressed his lips chastely against Shiro’s chest. It’s sweet. “Thank you, Shiro.” They’re acting like lovers.

 

“I want to do this more,” Shiro sighs playing with Keith’s long hair. To return the sentiment from earlier, Keith pokes at Shiro’s face.

 

“You know my name. Order me again next time,” he muses fondly.

 

“If I win,” Shiro says dully.

 

“You’re the Champion. Of course you’ll win. Lady Luck is on your side,” Keith says matter-of-factly. Shiro leans down to presses a kiss to Keith’s forehead. Kisses on his face make him gape.

 

He forgot that Keith’s a fan of his. That Keith roots for him. That Keith runs back to excitedly tell the other whores every detail of the match. That Keith looks forward to the match. But that’s to be expected. He’s still Galra.

 

“I wish it was that easy,” Shiro sighs.

 

“Your match is in a few hours. You should eat,” Keith says, looking over at the food.

 

“Maybe later.”

 

Keith huffs, crossing his arms.

 

“You won’t put on a good show if you don’t eat,” he pushes. Keith’s stomach gurgles just as he finishes his sentence. Loudly.

 

He goes red, unable to look at Shiro in the eyes.

 

Shiro smiles. “Hungry?”

 

Keith scowls, his face still a tomato. “Quiet your mouth. _Champion._ ”

 

The petulance in the boy’s voice makes Shiro laugh. “Oh, so _now_ I’m the Champion?” Shiro goads. “Am I the Champion when you’re in a bad mood?”

 

Keith groans, rolling away from Shiro. With Keith’s back facing him, Shiro can’t hear what Keith mutters.

 

“A little louder, _baby_?” Shiro asks. Keith quickly rolls back, his face still red. He has a more serious expression on, his eyes are watery. Shiro backs down immediately and softens his voice. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

 

He doesn’t get a response immediately. Keith stares at him with unknown intent. This is when the Galra really shines, Shiro faintly thinks. He isn’t sure how it happened so quickly, but Keith’s eyes look more slanted. They carry themselves more as predators. That’s fine, Shiro concludes. Keith’s eyes are gorgeous, no matter what appearance they’ve taken on.

 

“Fuck me, properly,” Keith blurts out without warning. He’s flushed enough that the red could be mistaken for a fever. “I want you.” He pushes himself up onto his bottom. “Yl or not.” His determination is a bit juvenile, a little too cute for their situation.

 

Shiro raises a brow. There’s that word again. “What is Yl?” he asks.

 

The red leaves Keith’s face as he stares at Shiro like he’s an enigma.

 

“I’m not from around here,” Shiro adds.

 

Keith keeps his mouth close, his face contouring to demonstrate his deep thinking. “It’s... used to make things wet enough to fuck.” So it’s Galra lube. “I do not know any others who do not use it.”

 

“We have that too,” Shiro says. “It’s called lube.” Keith’s lips curl up.

 

“What a strange name,” he remarks, amused. Only this man could make Shiro become interested in alien, more specifically, Galra language. “Although, you probably think our name is strange too.” His amused smile shifts to an expectant, neutral smile. It looks fake.

 

Shiro knows this face. Keith’s smile. It exclaims, “I don’t like doing this.”

 

“I don’t want to without… yl,” he says cautiously. Keith’s face doesn’t change.

 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Shiro,” Keith reassures. Shiro frowns, and that’s what puts a falter in Keith’s easy-going expression.

 

Shiro solidifies his point. “I’m not going to risk hurting you.” He leaves no room for even a chance to attempt a compromise. Keith slumps back, lightly hitting his head against the wall.

 

“Most people like that,” Keith says, his voice dripping in defeat. He tilts to lay down on his side, curling his body in and almost making a curved moon above Shiro’s head.

 

No matter how much he sleeps, he’s exhausted. No victories make him feel good. Nothing helps. His current life is awful. But Keith has helped some, and that makes a bigger mark on his conscious than it would in his past life. Even just a night has made him feel better. Keith’s a good person. But Keith’s also a whore sent on a mission, who’s excited for the champion’s next match.

 

Still, the boy has reminded him of his humanity. Showed Shiro that yes, thank God, he isn’t a complete monster yet.

 

They haven’t known each other for long, not even twenty four hours.

 

_You don’t have to worry about me_

 

_Most people like that_

 

He can’t stop himself from bitterly saying, “I’m not a fucking _rapist_.” Keith tenses and sits up again.

 

“I--I didn’t say you were. Are,” Keith exclaims, almost stuttering. Shock goes over his starry eyes like contact lenses.

 

Is that hypocritical to say? Shiro asks himself. He can’t have a God complex; isn’t he just as bad as the others? Sure, Keith liked it. Shiro remembers the sated smile on his face. But did he _actually want it_ ? Because, it dawns on Shiro that _he didn’t ask_ , he just _assumed_.

 

He doesn’t mean to space out and go slack-jawed. Did Keith really remind Shiro of his humanity? God, no. This doesn’t.

 

Shiro brings his arm up to cover his eyes, and he lets out a breathy, defeated “Fuck.”

 

Keith touches Shiro’s shoulder, and shakes it while he says his nickname. Undeterred, Keith moves on his hands and knees and climbs on top of Shiro. Surprisingly, he’s heavy for how thin he is.

 

“Stop.”

 

“I am,” Shiro says. “I’m taking advantage of you. You don’t _want_ this--”

 

“You have no right to tell me what I want and don’t want, Takashi Shirogane,” Keith snaps. The boy grabs Shiro’s wrist and pulls his arm up, holding it to his pale chest.

 

“I wanted it this time. I want it. I want you. I liked what we did. I’ve never felt that good before. You put me before you.” Keith brings Shiro’s hand to his face, pressing it against the side. “I haven’t even touched you yet,” he mutters.  
  
Before he touched Keith's skin, he hadn't realized how cold his hand was. Is he always this cold? “Stop trying to justify what I’m doing,” Shiro says, helpless.

 

“This is my _job,_ ” Keith argues. “Sometimes we hate our jobs and sometimes we love it.”

 

“A job you can’t quit.”

 

Keith opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He drops his shoulders. “You really aren’t from around here.” His response isn’t a question. “Then  there’s no reason for us to meet anymore.”

 

Shiro leans forward a bit and puts his other hand on Keith’s lower back to prevent him from sliding back. He wants to fix the gloomy pout on Keith’s face, somehow. “I still want to see you,” Shiro says. “But when you get here, I don’t want to touch you-- not in that way--”

 

“--You’re right that I can’t leave,” Keith interrupts. He removes Shiro’s hand from his cheek, and starts fidgeting with it, running his hands over Shiro’s calluses and tugging his fingers. “I don’t get to do much of anything. They don’t feed me well. I never stop working. I’m always cold-- we’re the same, you and I. Remember what I said yesterday to you? The treats? Sendak felt  pity for you. No one feels that about me. No one has ever sent a treat to me. I thought you were going to swallow me whole. And you did, but in a different way. I think you are beautiful. Have you considered that I believe you are a treat to me? I meant it when I called you beautiful. And I never get treats.”

 

“Where are you going with this, Keith?”

 

“Let me eat you, Takashi Shirogane.” Keith says, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Something hot rushes down Shiro’s spine. “I want this.”

 

“Are you sure you do?”

 

“I am selfish. I never get to be selfish. You are not a job. You’re a _treat._ Now, obey me, for once. Who knew you’d be this reluctant for release,” Keith says dryly.

 

“You make me feel like I’m not a complete monster,” Shiro admits. Keith’s face softens.

 

“You’re treating me like-- We can’t pretend to be lovers if we haven’t at least eaten each other,” Keith sighs.

 

“Why pretend?"

 

Why pretend, the Champion says,” Keith sighs. “You are difficult. Are all human beings so difficult? You do realize that you’re by this point, stabbing me?"

 

“--I--”

  
“Do you want me to make you climax with my mouth or not?” Keith exclaims. “See, you twitched just now! Maybe next time I’ll tie you down and put something over your mouth to get you to stop talking-- Oh, oh, you _like_ that, don’t you?"  
  
  
  
He actually had no idea that he’d be _that_ into Keith domming. “It’s been a long time! God, you’re such a brat,” Shiro groans. He feels his ears burn, like they’re burnt from the sun.

 

“Well, next time it will not have been a long time,” Keith says matter-of-factly, getting back down to his hands and knees and scooting down to Shiro’s lower half. As he moves, he slides Shiro’s tattered trousers down to below his knees, exposing Shiro’s cock that’s bright and wanting.

 

“Oh.” Keith blinks, moving closer to get a better look. “It’s the same color as your skin.”  
  
  
“Yea--”  
  


Keith pokes it. “And it’s _small_.”

 

Shiro sits up, shocked. No he’s fucking not, he’s well-endowed for human standards! “ _Excuse me_ ?” He exclaims.  


Keith puts his hands up in defense. “Galra are at least double and wider! And not as smooth--” He makes some sort of embarrassed noise before admitting, I don’t know what to do. He looks out of his element. “There’s something-- skin? Over it. Do I…” He looks up at Shiro for a direction. “Do I pull it back and then lick?”

 

“Y-yeah,” Shiro says, his breathing already quick. Without warning, Keith pulls back the foreskin. Shiro almost comes from it with a gasped moan.

 

“It’s flared,” Keith says in surprise. He slowly jerks again in his fingers, his eyes honed in. “But the base is smooth. Galra dicks don’t have any of this. The shape is just one. But it has dark ridges on all sides that get bigger.”.

 

To Shiro’s agony, he gets a taste of his own medicine from yesterday. Keith hasn’t see a human penis yet, the foreskin fascinates him. Just sliding it up and down and continuously exposing the head of his hard cock to Keith’s exhales is edging him straight into the first orgasm he’s had in more than a year.

 

“I have never seen it like this before,” Keith marvels, still torturing Shiro with slow and steady strokes. From the glint in his eyes, Shiro’s sure that this slow speed is on purpose. Precum is already starting to pool at the top. Keith takes the precum with some of his other fingers and smothers it on his pink lips like lip gloss. The hot breaths from Keith’s mouth ghost the head. This isn’t going to last long, he’s already gripping the bed sheets until his knuckles turn white, keening, and Keith hasn’t used his mouth yet.

 

Shiro exhales shakily. “I’m going to cum if you don’t stop.” he says, begging for mercy.

 

“Will this grow ridges?”

 

“No.”

 

“Nice,” Keith says. “Then it won’t hurt my mouth and throat.” With the foreskin still pulled back, Keith starts sliding it into his mouth and takes it all without hesitation. A _loud_ moan comes out of Shiro and he rests his hands in Keith’s hair. Keith pops his cock out of his wet mouth a moment later.

 

“Do I keep the skin pulled back with my tongue, or?” he asks, ignoring Shiro’s whine.

  
  
“It’s hard,” Shiro says. “You don’t have to do anything with it, it’s-- can you do that again?”

 

“Of course,” Keith says. He bends down again, commenting “You’re fun,” before mimicking earlier and taking all of Shiro into his mouth, down his throat. The sensation of wet, soft heat, Keith’s moans and swallowing add a vibration effect. Shiro has to think of anything but Keith on his cock. Otherwise his climax will end too soon.

 

Keith takes it so well, syncing the moans he makes around Shiro’s cock with Shiro’s own cries. His lips, red from the friction, hold his cock in a solid circle, squeezing down with a tight grip and leaving no room for Keith to breathe out of his mouth.

 

Space be fucked, this is best blowjob he has ever received. What throws him over the threshold is tugging on Keith’s hair, and Keith letting out a loud, surprised moan. There are tears in his eyes, but Keith takes it all. He tugs Keith’s hair again, and gets a louder cry that vibrates Keith’s throat. The hold on Shiro’s hips loosens, and Shiro thrusts up into Keith’s mouth without meaning to. He’s close, he’s so fucking close. And Keith accepts the change of control and tightens his mouth more to take _everything_ that Shiro gives him.

 

What Shiro doesn’t expect is for Keith moving his hands completely away from Shiro’s hips, and softly grip his tight balls with one of them, squeezing them in quick intervals. It adds new pleasure that throws him over the edge. _I won_ , Keith’s face says. Shiro comes so hard into Keith’s mouth that he shuts his eyes while shooting his cum down Keith’s throat.

 

Keith pulls out after experimentally sucking on Shiro’s cock a few more times. Some of the cum leaks and dribbles down his chin. “It’s white,” Keith remarks while wiping his mouth with his arm. ”Galra cum is usually the color of the person’s skin.”

 

“Fuck,” Shiro sighs. “That was amazing, baby. Fuck.”

 

“You needed it,” Keith says, and he rolls his eyes. “Maybe now you’ll stop being so uptight, Champion.”

 

“Can I touch you, Keith?”

 

“Me? Uh, _sure._ ”

 

This time will be better, for sure, he thinks as Keith climbs back onto Shiro’s chest. He reaches his hand down to get the ball rolling, and gropes at Keith’s thong. But it’s, it doesn’t feel like how it did yesterday.

 

That. Is most _certainly_ a bulge.

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Keith says, flustered.

 

“It changed,” Shiro says faintly.

 

Keith tilts his head, confused. He forgets about his arousal. “... Yours does not?”

 

“Not on it’s own.”

 

“It’s part of a forty-five day quintant cycle,” Keith explains. “Sleep triggers the change.”

 

Some semblance to a period. “Alright,” Shiro says, trying to make more sense of it. “Why does it change?”

 

“Fertility,” Keith says. He pokes at Shiro’s forehead. “There are four parts. You can carry during half, you don’t carry during the other half. When you can carry or get someone to carry, it is split into two halves. It goes from high fertility to low, then in the second half, when you don’t carry, it goes from low fertility to high fertility.”

 

To be honest, it goes a little over Shiro’s head. “Yeah, definitely don’t have that,” Shiro remarks.

 

Keith takes it as a cue to continue. “Some take pills to keep it the same for a long time. Most of the Galra who run this arena only want the second half, preferably the first part of the second half.”

 

“What about you?”

 

Keith shrugs. “I’m a half-breed. I only have two parts since we’re sterile. They recently put me on pills to draw out the first half. It’s thrown my whole cycle out of whack. I’m definitely less popular during the second half,” he muses. “You’re the the opposite.”

 

“I like both.”

 

“Do you now?” Keith says, eyeing him.

 

“If it’s you, yeah, definitely. You’re still the prettiest person I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

 

Flustered, Keith smacks his face into Shiro’s chest. “Stop that,” he says, voice muffled.

 

“I’m serious,” Shiro says, rubbing Keith’s back. “You are. I’m excited to explore you, and--”

 

The sound of someone messing with the door to the cell interrupts Shiro. They both tense, forgetting the conversation and looking towards the noise.

 

“Times up,” a guard passively informs, giving them some privacy and not looking inside. “You’re wanted back.”

 

Shiro finds himself a little jealous, the feeling surprises him. Keith just nods, and obeys without question. They both sit up.

 

“Win, and you can explore any part of me,” Keith purrs and wraps Shiro in his arms for a moment. He whispers “ _Good luck._ ” before standing up, adjusting his clothes and shuffling out.  
  
Shiro needs it.

 


	2. But this is more than just a mindset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fourth match, the Galra asks him. And he answers Keith without even a moment of hesitation.

 

The next three matches are quick victories. Shiro only breaks a sweat the night after each fight. A cold sweat from the victims he has killed that he sees every time he tries to sleep. The Galra who watches over his cell doesn’t prompt Shiro about picking a whore to sleep with. Shiro doesn’t push for it because he doesn’t want to come off as desperate. Sleeping with Keith didn’t feel like sleeping with a whore, more like a lover. But to everyone besides him, it’s the champion asking for another whore to eat up.

 

After the fourth match, the Galra asks him. And he answers  _ Keith  _ without even a moment of hesitation. He should feel embarrassed by his overeagerness. But today’s match had been especially awful. He had slain a prisoner he met when he got here. The prisoner had comforted him right after Sam and Matt were taken away. She told Shiro that yes, they’re off to a concentration camp, but the camp they’ll be in is known as one of the more laidback camps. They aren’t going to a death camp. Her father works as an overseer and he’s a compassionate man loved by the prisoners. Human beings are rare as well. His friends have a chance of surviving, they have a better chance than Shiro does.

 

She never gave her name. But she mentioned that she was a race called Olkarion. Her mate and child were saved by her sacrifice, and are safely tucked away somewhere in the universe. Facing against her in the arena was inevitable. Shiro keeps going against his own advice of keeping his distance away from everyone.

 

Humans must be faster than Olkarion. He went straight for her jugular and killed her in a single slash to her throat. The entire time she looked calm. 

 

Right before he lunged at her, she said, “I’m glad it’s you.”

 

They screamed champion as her blood soaked the sand.

 

Champion.

 

That’s his pet name, it makes him notorious. People fear him, even some Galra. But he isn’t a champion. Takashi Shirogane is an antonym.

 

An antonym that, lately, has felt less grief hearing the word when it’s said by a small boy with skin lighter than lavender. Hair the color of the night sky. Eyes that shine like stars. Otherworldly. A beautiful product of the universe. On Earth, Keith would be the Aurora Borealis, and Shiro would travel thousands of miles to see his bright colors. The way his beauty would bounce off sheets of ice and mountains of snow.

 

Shiro needs to see him again. The boy enters his cell with a coy smile that changes immediately to a flushed, surprised face when Shiro hugs the boy with as much ferocity he’s forced to show in the matches. Except, with Keith, it isn’t forced.

 

“Congratulations,” Keith tries to say, muffled in Shiro’s chest. He gropes around Shiro’s side until he can wrap his arms around Shiro’s thick waist. “Mister Lucky is on your side.

 

Shiro smiles endearingly against Keith’s hair. “You mean Lady Luck?” he asks, teasing.

 

“Whatever,” Keith says, bringing his hands back in between their chests and lightly pushing Shiro away. “Human beings have too many strange sayings,” he grumbles.

 

Shiro feels the tension leave the edge of his eyes and the cracks in his forehead soften. Rose gold lace hugs Keith’s skin, covering him more than the last time they met. Keith puts his hand over his mouth and silently yawns.

 

“Tired?” Shiro asks, poking Keith’s face. Keith grimaces but doesn’t bat his hand away.

 

“Yes,” Keith says, stifling another. “I have been busy. I am sure you do not have to think too much about why.” Shiro puts his hands around Keith’s waist, still in awe that his fingers touch each other in the middle of Keith’s mid-back.

 

“You’re beautiful,” Shiro says unabashedly. It sprinkles some pink on Keith’s bright complexion. Comments like these seem to unwire Keith and throw him off. His reactions are always cute to observe. 

 

“So you have said before,” Keith mutters. He looks ornery, like he’s itching for a fight.

 

Shiro frowns and squeezes his hands around Keith’s waist for a beat to get a squeak. “What’s wrong?”  

 

“Nothing gets passed you,” Keith says dryly. “Does it?”

 

“You saw how the last three days have been for me,” Shiro counters. “I don’t want to fight more than I have to.”

 

“But you barely fought,” Keith counter-counters. “Those matches were over within a decaphoeb! I barely got a break.”

 

“Keith,” Shiro sighs. “I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what’s eating you.”

 

Some of his temper vanishes and confusion takes it spot. “Eating me?” 

 

Right. The expressions. “What’s affecting you negatively,” Shiro tries to explain on the spot. “Come on, you can tell me."

 

Keith grumbles. “Okay, Champion. I will tell you what’s,  _ eating me, _ ” Keith says, motioning to their surroundings. “This! This is eating me!”

 

“Here?”

  
  
“What else?” Keith snaps. “Sendak brought some of Emperor Zarkon’s closest generals here to observe you in the arena. And,” Keith points to himself. “I am considered ‘exotic’ and  _ ‘rare.’ _ The last few days have been…” Keith notably deflates. His shoulders lean forward and he lays his head on Shiro’s chest. In this position, it dawns on Shiro just how small Keith is. “I cannot even begin to describe how tired I am.”

 

Shiro has only met Sendak a handful of times. But he’s well aware that they’re on Sendak’s land. Everyone reports to him. They’ve never had so much a conversation, Shiro knows the reason he’s fighting in the first place is because of Sendak’s command. The Galra commander is the closest thing to an antagonist that Shiro has if this was a work of fiction. Shiro shivers when Sendak looks at him. 

 

Serving Sendak or any of the monster’s friends intimately must be miserable.

 

He wants to take these silk laces off immediately. The dark circles under Keith’s eyes and the weak way he carries himself tell him that now isn’t a good time. They don’t know each other well yet. Shiro is sure Keith doesn’t want to do anything, and forcing himself on Keith is the opposite of what he wants to do.

 

“Have you eaten?” Shiro asks. 

 

Keith looks up curiously. “I had half a loaf of hik this morning,” he says nonchalantly. Then he narrows his eyes. “Why did  _ you _ want to know?”

  
  
“Because you’re hangry,” Shiro says bluntly. “And you need a nap.”

 

Keith sighs. “What is hangry? And I do not need a nap.” He motions to his clothes. “I came here to be fucked. These clothes need to come  _ off _ .”

  
  
“Nope,” Shiro says. “Hangry means you’re so hungry that you’re angry.” He takes one of his hands to poke Keith’s face. “That’s you.” He taps a spot underneath his right eye. Keith silently shows his small white fangs as a warning. “And these eyebags here tell me otherwise.”

 

Keith makes a low growl and then his stomach makes a loud rumbling sound. The fight sizzles away into smoke. He whines.

 

“Maybe I do need a nap. And food,” he admits. 

 

“That’s what I thought,” Shiro says, smiling. A yawn escapes him. “My meal doesn’t come for a while, but I’m tired too. Let me take care of you. I’ll undress you later, don’t worry about that.”

 

“Okay, fine,” Keith submits. 

 

Shiro bends down to wrap his arms around Keith’s thighs, lifting him off the ground with ease. He’s light. Keith falls over Shiro’s shoulder.

 

He starts protesting, trying to wiggle around of Shiro’s arms. “What are you-- I can walk to the bed just  _ fine, Shiro.” _

 

“You finally said my name,” Shiro notes while the boy starts punching his back. The hits surprisingly have some force behind them. But they feel less like an attack and more like a massage. Is he always this tense? He’ll have to ask Keith to hit him some more later.  

 

“Put me  _ down _ ,” Keith demands as Shiro’s approaches the edge of the bed. Excellent. Perfect.

 

“As his Highness commands,” Shiro says cheerfully, tossing Keith off of his shoulder. Keith yelps in the air, and hits the top of the bed. He lands on his back and bounces once with an  _ “oof. _ ”

 

The look Shiro gets after Keith collects himself is a mix of shock and fury. Keith opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Sprawled out, the lace that covered his shoulders slid down upon impact.. Nothing covers those shoulders that show off his pastel skin anymore--

 

_ Jesus,  _ Shirogane. Shoulders?  _ Shoulders _ ? Shiro asks his tiny ape brain.

 

“Go to sleep,” Shiro says as he starts to join Keith on the bed. Keith bares his pointy fangs and  _ hisses _ as Shiro crawls over. He lazily tries to bat him away. Shiro rolls his eyes, undeterred, and grabs Keith to pull him into his arms. 

 

“Goodnight, Keith.”

 

“It’s not  _ night _ ,” Keith mutters.

 

Shiro pets one of Keith’s soft ears and it calms him immediately. Like an off-switch. “Good _ night _ , Keith.” Keith’s asleep a few seconds later.

 

\---

 

A startling unknown vibration wakes Shiro up after how many hours. The cell has no windows to tell. He can’t tell where it’s coming from, but it’s-- it’s on his  _ chest _ \--

 

Shiro looks down and sees Keith drooling on Shiro’s shirt and out like a  _ light _ . The sound is coming out of Keith’s mouth.

 

Oh.

 

Oh!

 

“I didn’t know Galra could purr,” Shiro says absentmindedly to himself. He experiments and scratches a spot right behind one of Keith’s fluffy ears. To his delight, Keith makes a pleased sigh and the purring gets louder. Shiro likes Keith because he’s less Galra. Purring must be Galra-only feature. It surprises him that he finds it so cute, considering it’s Galra.

 

“Hello,” Keith greets drowsily. He meets Shiro’s eyes, his are much more serene than they were before. Keith’s smile is sated. The nap was an excellent idea. 

 

“Hungry?” Shiro asks. Keith moves to peak over Shiro’s shoulder.

 

“Your meal arrived,” Keith tells him, making no attempt to move.

 

“Eat what you want.”

 

“You shouldn’t let me eat what I want to eat,” Keith says. “You have to keep your strength up. Knowing my people, the food they give you is exactly how much food you must eat to keep your physical form in top shape.” He frowns, worryingly. “If I take any, you won’t have enough.”

 

“And then my fights won’t be very fun to watch.”

 

“I’m supposed to help you win,” Keith says. His tone is a little off. “I’ll be fed before your match or right after.”

 

“I don’t want hangry Keith returning.”

 

Keith scowls. “And I don’t want Shiro  _ not _ returning.  _ “ _ I’m not going anywhere until you consummate my visit.”

 

Shiro crosses his arms. “And I won’t do that on an empty stomach.”

 

Keith grins. “Exactly,” he yawns. He stretches out on the bed, reminding Shiro of a cat again.

 

_ Am I a furry?  _ He asks himself.

 

“Do you know what cats are?”

 

“No?” Keith responds. “Is it food?”

 

“Well, it’s a species of animal so I guess you could eat one. But nobody really does,” Shiro says.

 

“A pet then?”

 

Shiro nods. “Mhm. Do Galra have pets?”

 

Keith shrugs. “Some do. Keeping pets is seen as strange.” Keith’s stomach makes a loud noise and he winces. Shiro motions to the tray and Keith finally grabs a chunk of some sort of purple bread-like thing. “Other species do.”   
  


While he does eat the majority of the food, Keith gets his fill-in too. Neither one of them feel necessarily full when the tray’s empty but at least Keith looks like he has more energy to him. The galra spreads out on the bed and sighs in content while Shiro heads to the tiny bathroom to wash his hands.

 

Shiro dries his hands and makes his way over to Keith. He goes to the edge of the bed and gets down on his knees to start eating Keith out, until Keith notices and crosses his legs. Shiro stops immediately, unable to read Keith’s panicked expression. 

 

“Do you want me to stop?” Shiro asks.

 

Keith presses the back of his hand to his own forehead, swallowing down an inhale. Overwhelmed. “I don’t know,” he croaks.

 

“We don’t have to continue,” Shiro offers, serious. “We can sleep more, or hang out.”

 

Keith’s eyes widen. “Hang out?  _ Hang out?  _ You want to hang ourselves—”

 

Shiro laughs and presses a soft kiss to one of Keith’s thighs in sweet endearment. “It’s an Earth saying. It means spend time together.”

 

Keith squints. “Won’t we spend time together having sex?”

 

“It’s more like, talking. Or playing games. Drinking. Doing what friends do.”

 

“Are we friends?” Keith asks, joining Shiro on the floor. He sits properly on his bent legs, pulling off  _ seiza  _ like a pro. Sitting side by side, Shiro takes note on how Keith barely comes up to his shoulders.

 

“I think so.” Shiro nods. He takes one of Keith’s soft hands in both of his, running his fingers over the claws Keith has instead of fingernails. “I like you a lot.”

 

“It is interesting how different we are. Even down to the hands.” He laughs a little, smiling. “Half of the time I have no clue what you are talking about either.”

 

“Mm, if you ever go to Earth someday, you’ll fit right in with the locals. Might want to work on your contractions though,” he teases.

 

Keith’s smile turns passive-aggressive. He takes his hand out of Shiro’s and brings it up to tug on Shiro’s face. “You sound like a  _ bron _ with how you speak.”

 

“What’s a bron?”

 

“A poor person who tends to live away from cities. They have large families and poor manners.”

 

“Being a bron sounds cool,” Shiro dismisses. Keith looks confused again. “Cool means something is, uh.” He stumbles. “Huh. I can’t explain it. Sounds, like nice, I guess.”

 

“Am I cool?” Keith asks.

 

“You will be,” Shro says seriously. “Can you say, “yo yo what’s crackalackin’, my homie?’” 

 

“Uh. Okay,” Keith agrees, a little hesitant. “Yo yo yo... what’s... crackalacking my…” He looks at Shiro for guidance, lost.

 

“My homie.” Shiro mouths.

 

“—my homie,” Keith finishes, confused.

 

“You pass, alright now.” Shiro puts his own hand up and makes a fist, keeping his pointer finger and pinky up. “Do this.” Keith makes the sign quickly and eagerly. “And now can you say after me, ‘I love it when you call me big poppa.’”

 

“I love it when you call big poppa.” Keith blinks. “What is a big poppa?” he asks.

 

That’s an entirely different conversation for a different day. Shiro tries to ignore the blood rushing to his dick.

 

“T-that doesn’t matter.” He shifts in his seat to try and calm himself down. “”Put your hands in the aiya if youz a true playa.’”

 

“Put your hands in the air if you are a—“ Keith shakes his head. “If  _ youz  _ a true playa.”

 

Shiro puts his thumb up. “You’re a pro.”

 

“Does that mean I’m cool?” Keith asks, grinning and showing his fangs.

 

Keith’s smile is almost blinding. Shiro can’t find his voice for a moment. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think his heart was in his ears. 

 

“Shiro?” Keith asks again. “Am I cool?”

 

“—Yeah.  _ Yeah _ . You’re the coolest.”

 

Keith nods approvingly. “Nice.” He puts one of his hands on Shiro’s inner thigh.  I want you,” he says while leaning forward. Need sharpens Keith’s pupils until they look like a cat’s.

 

Shiro’s hips lurch forward from honing in on Keith’s hand and his brain hyper focusing on the touch.  _ Bring it closer _ , the blood traveling down there palpitates. Despite the want Shiro’s carried for hours Keith won’t bring him comfort if he’s just playing along. “You sure you want to?”

 

Keith’s face sanguines. The scarlet trails down his neck. Talking about what Keith wants causes him to blush every time. 

 

“There you go ahead,” Keith says faintly. “You are not obliged to ask me.” Shiro spreads his legs and beckons Keith to sit midway, patting the bed. He interlaces their hands together.

 

“There’s no point in sleeping with you if you aren’t interested,” he explains, ignoring the chub he’s currently sporting at seeing Keith on his knees. Keith doesn’t make eye contact, making Shiro sigh and reach out to cup Keith’s face with one of his hands. “Hey, look at me. What’s going on?”

 

Keith looks like he wants to shake off Shiro’s hands but responds anyway. “I do not think you will understand.”

 

“Humor me then.”

 

“This--all of this is an act. Sendak, the generals, everyone else, they’re sleeping with Keith the escort. Not  _ me _ . I was disciplined to carry out that role. I crafted a mask to stay sane. Then I was ushered and sent to you and you wanted to pleasure  _ me _ .” Keith runs fingers through his hair, stressed. “You keep asking me for consent. You are asking Keith. The Keith underneath the mask. Keith under the mask has never had sex with anyone before three days ago,” he says nervously. “Keith under the mask does not have a clue on what to do. He was thrown into a lake but he can barely keep his head above water.”

 

“So I’m speaking to the real Keith?”

 

Keith nods. “Yes,” he breathes. “And he is  _ terrified _ .”

 

“I won’t pretend that I totally understand what you’re talking about, but…I feel the same way, kinda.”

 

“Oh?” Keith asks.

 

“I’m the Champion. But with you,” Shiro smiles. “I’m just Shiro.”

 

Keith nods quicker. He points to himself. “You’re just Shiro, and I’m just Keith.”

 

“Hi, Keith,” Shiro says, pulling Keith in.

 

“Hi Shiro” Keith says back, bashful. He puts his arms around Shiro’s neck and pulls himself in closer until he’s in the crook of Shiro’s neck. Shiro wraps his arms around the boy’s waist.

 

“Is what’s poking me just Shiro or Shiro the Champion?” Keith muses, teasing.

  
  
“Haha. Very funny,” Shiro deadpans. He lowers his hands to cup Keith’s ass. “You have no idea how badly I want you, baby.”

  
  
“I think I do,” Keith says, moving back and making eye contact. He has a wicked smirk on his lips.”

 

“Yeah?” Shiro asks with a low voice. “Why do you think that?”

  
  
“Because I want you just as bad,” Keith laughs to the side and looks back up.  _ “Baby _ .”

 

With a far too serious look on his face, Keith wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck and brings him down for a rough kiss. He rakes his claws through Shiro’s grown out buzz cut, tugging at his hair. Shiro brings a hand up to gently hold the side of Keith’s face, making Keith purr. The roughness of Keith’s tongue surprises Shiro, it reminds him of a cat. 

 

Keith explores Shiro’s back, raking his claws back and forth and creating a feeling in between a tickle and a scratch. Shiro brings his hands to the sides of Keith’s waist, running his fingers up and down and feeling the soft skin. Keith almost breaks the kiss, laughing into it. Reaching his fingers further down to grip Keith’s hips, Shiro stops kissing Keith’s lips and trails them to his jaw and then down to his throat.

 

“Those are going to leave marks,” Keith complains. Shiro tries to shrug as best as he can and bites into the nape of Keith’s neck. In return, Keith purrs louder and sighs contently.

 

“Sounds like you don’t mind,” Shiro remarks in between nips.

 

“Your teeth aren’t that sharp,” Keith says back. “It feels good.”

 

“Yeah?” he asks for reassurance.

 

“Mhm,” Keith says. Shiro shifts and moves his head lower to Keith’s chest, first kitten licking at one of Keith’s nipples and massaging the other one. Keith’s breathing breaks and he arches his back. He presses his chest closer to Shiro’s mouth to encourage Shiro to do more. Shiro wraps his teeth around his and tugs it, simultaneously pinching at the other one with his fingers.

 

Keith lets out a lengthy, content moan, gripping Shiro’s back firmer. He looks down at Shiro, observing. His face and chest are flushed in rose. Shiro starts to shift lower, but Keith grabs tufts of his hair and pulls him up. The pupils in Keith’s eyes are thin while his ears curl back, probably from annoyance, if Shiro had to guess.

 

“That hurt,” Shiro says.

 

“There is no time for that,” Keith says, “Your match is soon and you have not come once while we have been together.”

 

“And?” 

 

Keith sighs. “You can take what we both want you to take, Shiro.”

  
  
“I don’t want it to hurt.”

  
  
Shiro feels a heel lightly kick the side of his lower back. 

 

“It won’t,” Keith says. “This is good. Just touch me with your fingers.”

  
  
“Pushy.”

 

Shiro leans down to kiss Keith while lowering his hand down to Keith’s sex. He notes that Keith’s tight and needs work. Adds a finger, slowly makes shallow circles. Clit motion with a thumb. Keith’s claws deepen on Shiro’s back.   
  


“The feeling is still strange,” Keith says slightly out of breath. 

  
  
“Bad or good?”

  
  
“Very good,” Keith says. “Overwhelming.”

 

“Was that the first orgasm you’ve had?”

  
  
Keith’s eyes narrow slightly. “I don’t know what that is.”

  
  
“When I asked you about cumming,” Shiro explains. “That feeling you felt.”

 

“Oh, that,” Keth says. He’s silent for a moment, thinking. “Yes. I do believe so.” Shiro moves his away for a second. “Put your hand back if you know what is good for you,”  Keith pouts. His fangs pop out as he angrily glares at Shiro.

 

Shiro tries to say, “Baby do you know what patience yields?” as seriously as he can. The slight upcurve of the edge of his mouth betrays him. Keith groans.

 

“Are all humans like this?” Keith complains. “What does patience yield?”

  
  
“ _ Focus. _ ”

 

Keith glares even more and now his anger has snowballed into downright fury. “By the time we get to fucking, your match will already be here,” he laments. “Speed! Up! I do not think we have more than a few decapheobs left.”

 

“Keith,” Shiro’s chest vibrates while he tries to hold back a laugh. “Keith this is important. Life. Changing. Baby tell me, what does patience yield?”

 

“The next time you request me I will decline,” Keith says sweetly. He keeps his grip around Shiro’s cock and starts to slowly stroke it. The fabric of the pants rubbing in-between is too much against the sensitive foreskin. Shiro’s knees buckle.

 

“What was that about  _ patience _ , Shiro?” Keith says, lazily sliding his hand up and down the shaft. Two can play at this game. Shiro slides his hand back down to Keith’s cunt and starts feeling around. Keith’s wetter and after experimentally sliding one finger in, and then two, he goes for three. He goes slow while making circles around the nub. Keith throws his head back moaning. 

 

It dawns on Shiro just now. He’s already dangerously close to coming but his pants aren’t even off yet. This is only the second time someone has touched his penis a long time.

 

_ Oh no. _

 

Right before he joined the Garrison, he lost his virginity as a freshmen in high school while he was visiting his friend who was a freshmen in college. In his friend’s dorm, they started getting frisky during Katy Perry’s  _ Teenage Dream. _ Two spotify songs later Shiro was balls deep in his “friend’s” ass during  _ Sexy Bitch  _ by David Guetta. He made to ten thrusts.

 

His friend wasn’t nearly as hot as Keith is.

 

_ He’s going to be lucky if he gets through five thrusts. _

 

At least it’ll be the best five thrusts of his life.

 

“Inside. Inside me right now.”

  
  
“ _ K-keith-- _ ” Shiro tries to reason.

  
  
Keith shakes his head. “ _ Now,”  _ he commands.

 

“You aren’t ready,” Shiro counters indefinitely. “You haven’t cum yet.”

  
  
Keith wraps his legs around Shiro’s waist and pulls him into a shockingly tight grip. 

 

“Later!” Keith gasps. “Do you do this with everyone you sleep with?”

  
  
“Only you,” Shiro breathes. “Alright, alright grab that pillow.” He motions to the pillow above Keith’s head.

  
  
Keith reaches for it as fast as he can and holds it out to Shiro who takes it.

 

“Move your hips up!” Shiro exclaims. Keith raises his hips with an expectant look.

  
  
Shiro puts the pillow down underneath.

 

“Now back down!”

  
  
Keith lowers his hips back onto the pillow.

 

“You’re really fucking cute,” Shiro sighs, looking down to line up. “You ready, baby?”

 

Keith’s nose scrunches up, oblivious. “Are you making fun of me--” Shiro slowly starts pushing the head in. The grip of Keith’s legs tightens even more as Keith’s eyes flutter while he gasps.

 

“You okay? Baby?”

  
  
“You’re perfect,” Keith says breathlessly. Shiro presses in more until he’s buried to the hilt. Keith’s cunt is tight. The warm muscles pressed all around his cock are near paralyzing. He looks down to Keith’s cat-like pupils looking up at him expectantly. Keith’s pastel skin has more of a pink hue than cool lavender. Moving around so much has his black hair spilled everywhere around him. They’ve barely started but he already looks fucked out.

 

His dick is as hard as diamonds but Shiro’s face softens. Underneath him is Keith. Just Keith. 

 

And he’s Shiro. Just Shiro. 

  
  
Keith bares his fangs while trying to grind against Shiro’s cock. “Why aren’t you moving?” he asks, his brow pinned in frustration. Shiro can feel the lithe legs around his waist starting to shake.

  
  
“It doesn’t hurt, right?” It’s taking all of Shiro’s force not to eat Keith. He lets out a big exhale. He hasn’t had anyone on his cock in more than a year, and with his first time being Keith, Shiro feels the heat in his groin beginning to boil over. “You feel good, Keith?”

  
  
“Shiro,” Keith sighs.  _ “Move. _ ” 

 

Keith doesn’t have to command twice. 

 

Shiro pulls out almost fully and rolls his hips to thrust as hard as he can. The front of his thighs smack against the back of Keith’s thighs and Keith lets out a breathy moan.

 

After eating him out, Shiro thought Keith would be a screamer. Having Keith make loud, content sighs and long moans is unexpected. It takes a few experimental thrusts to fall into a complimentary rhythm pattern. Shiro bends down and kisses Keith fierce around his jawline and down his neck. He notices Keith lower his free hand down, touching around and looking down for something.

 

“Touch yourself like that, Keith,” Shiro pleas. “I can’t do it--” His arms are starting to shake. “You’ll feel so good baby.”

  
  
“I can’t find i--  _ oh _ ,” Keith gasps. 

 

“Found it?”

  
  
“I think so…?” Keith says. He repeats the motion with his fingers and shudders. “Yes. Found it.”

  
  
“I’m gonna cum,” Shiro says breathlessly. “Where?”

  
  
“Where what?”

  
  
“Inside-- or?”

  
  
Keith eyes him. “I’m an escort I don’t have any say--”

  
  
“ _ Keith.” _

  
  
“Inside,” Keith pants. “Fill me up.”

 

He thrusts in for the final time, deeply and groaning. Shiro relaxes on top of Keith, sighing in content. He presses chaste kisses to Keith’s collarbones. Below him, Keith stifles.

 

Shiro gets back up.

 

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m really close,” Keith stresses, his voice pained. “I know that it’s over but-- Shiro--” Keith grabs his hand and pulls it down.

 

“What’s the magic word?”

  
  
“I-- What? Magic words,” Keith thinks out loud. Being so close adds hoarseness to his voice. ”Did a druid cast a spell?”

  
  
“Right. Sorry. Say please,” Shiro says.

 

“Please, Shiro!”

 

“As his majesty commands,” Shiro says, pressing his hand further down and sliding his fingers again Keith, who spreads his legs eagerly. “Is this good?” he asks. Keith vigorously nods.

 

“More, please,” Keith begs.

 

Keith’s sex is already soaked, leaking Shiro’s cum. It only takes a few circles on his swollen nub for Keith to shudder and throw his head back.    

 

“Good?” Shiro asks, grinning.

 

“Mmhm,” Keith says while Shiro lays beside him. They stay there for a little bit, until Keith rolls into Shiro’s chest. Shiro puts his arms around Keith and pulls him closer. 

 

“Tell me more about Earth,” Keith says as he settles into Shiro’s arms. “I have never lived on a planet. Only ships like these.”

  
  
“Never?”

  
  
“Yes,” Keith stretches and rests one of his hands on Shiro’s hip. “I have never seen the sky or walked on dirt and grass, but it is not an anomaly, most Galra in my spot have not.”

  
  
“Why’s that?”

  
  
Keith shrugs. “You are on here for a long time and there is nothing to look at for a long time. There are always Galra here so I am always busy,” he says in the middle of a yawn. “Tell me about Earth.”

  
  
“It’s big,” Shiro says, feeling slightly embarrassed after stating something obvious. “It has lots of different looking things. All sorts of animals and people.”

  
  
“Like cats,” Keith offers.

 

“Like cats,” Shiro agrees. He studies Keith.

 

“Something on my face?” 

 

“You kinda look like a human,” he remarks. “You’re half, right?”

 

Keith’s eyes narrow. “Yes, but, you are the first human being anyone here has ever seen."

 

“What about your parents?” Shiro asks.

 

“They are both dead,” Keith says casually. “I remember my mother and she was Galra. I never met my father, and she never told me anything while she was still alive.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says. “I didn’t mean to pry."

 

Keith waves it off. “No problem. It was long ago. I am not sad about it much anymore.” But he looks noticeably distraught. 

“If it makes you feel any better, we’re two peas in a pod. I lost both of my moms in a car crash and my grandpa raised me."

 

“I hope you get to go back,” Keith says. “To see him again."

 

Something in Shiro’s gut burns.

 

“Don’t you want to go somewhere?”

 

Keith thinks. “There is nowhere to go,” Keith states.

 

“You know-- you could--”

 

The door opens partially, making both of them freeze and look towards the door. Neither care about covering up. The guard shouts that it’s time to prepare for the next fight.

 

“Go,” Keith nods towards the door. “Be great.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope u liked that vanilla sex! We're getting get f r i s k y next chapter!!


End file.
